


Only You

by angstbot



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Dubious Consent, F/F, Psychological Trauma, corrective heterosexuality, flashbacks to emotional abuse, flashbacks to physical abuse, sex in a disturbed mindframe, sexual orientation conversion "therapy"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstbot/pseuds/angstbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 3x20. A drunken kiss leads to startling revelations about Emma’s past. Can she and Regina work through it and build something meaningful? Now Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Flashbacks to physical and mental abuse and forcible de-gay-ing. It won't be terribly in depth or graphic, but it will pop up. 
> 
> This might be long. I’ve got seven chapters blocked out so far and they may get sub-divided as I write. It is definitely going to be gradual. It will get happy, but it’s gonna start really dark/heavy and take a while to get there. And there will be smut eventually.

There was, as usual, a party at Granny’s to celebrate Zelena being defeated. Emma was happy, of course, and relieved. But with her parents preoccupied with her new brother and Hook constantly at her heel like an overzealous puppy, she was feeling very edgy. Worse, when everyone else was drinking so much out of relief that they had all survived certain doom—again—she felt like she shouldn’t indulge. And that meant one beer, which hadn’t even taken the edge off.

This was perhaps why she was in a decidedly unforgiving mood when she saw Robin Hood attempting to wrangle a seriously intoxicated Regina into her coat and out the door. It really wasn’t her business, except that she’d overheard a truly disgusting round of penis fencing between Hood and Hook earlier that evening in which the thief had intimated that “The queen might just finally agree to lift her skirts tonight.” It really wasn’t her business, except that Regina really was in no condition to agree to any such thing.

She sighed, but knew she had to say something, so she got up and went over. “She's too drunk to go home with you. I’ll take her,” she said, aiming for reasonable but unable to keep all of her distaste for him out of her tone.

“Oh-ho! But she’s not too deep in the cups to go home with you?” Robin sneered back.

Emma blinked at him, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean. Then she shook it off. “Whatever. You’re not going.” Turning to Regina, she went on, “Come on, Madame Mayor. Let’s get you home.”

**

Regina, it turned out, was rather an emotionally forthcoming drunk. It was so unlike her usual reserve that Emma suspected it was why the older woman didn’t drink often and didn’t imbibe much when she did. It did make the savior wonder what was so different about tonight.

On the way to the car Emma heard all about how the queen felt deep satisfaction to have managed to defeat Zelena without killing her and hoped that they could make peace and maybe even form some kind of familial bond. On the short drive across town she was regaled with the incredible relief Regina felt to have Henry back. As they walked up the path, the savior learned that the older woman was pleasantly surprised to have found some sort of meaningful connection with Snow after all these years.

And as she took Regina’s keys from her and opened the door, the queen confessed that she was rather intrigued to see where this dalliance with-

The older woman paused in her monologue, clearly baffled. “Where’s Robin?”

Emma smiled, because the queen’s discomfiture was actually kind of cute, though there was a little twinge of bitterness that Regina would have preferred to be being brought home by someone who wasn’t Emma. “You’re really too drunk to be going home with somebody you barely know,” she explained.

Regina smiled a full, real smile. “But not you, my white knight.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Emma muttered to herself as she steadied the queen up the short first set of steps with gentle hands on her hips.

As they reached the upper level of the foyer, the queen turned back to her and positively purred, “Mm, I do appreciate protective savior mode.” Then Regina’s hand was cupping her face, and Regina was in her personal space, and Regina’s scent was making her head spin.

Regina’s mouth was pressed oh so sweetly to hers. And this was warm and it was comfortable and Emma felt a surge of affection for the queen-

Then it felt like the floor dropped out from underneath her, and the adrenaline of panic rushed through her, and a low buzzing started just at the edges of her perception.

“I have to go,” she gasped, running out of the house as fast as her legs would carry her, leaving the door wide open in her haste.

Her hands shook crazily as she fumbled at the ignition, and her stomach was roiling but she didn’t have time to throw up. She had to get away. Now.

**

An open palm striking flesh. “We were just trying things out! Practicing for boys! I swear!”

The sharp crack of beltleather. “I’m not like that! I’m not- Please!”

The thud of a fist into soft midsection. “I’m not ungrateful! I didn’t mean to bring filth into your house! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!”

The skin-stinging coldness of firehose spray punctuated by flashes of lesbian pornography projected on concrete. “Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. Thou shalt not-”

Abomination, abomination, abomination.

Emma sat up abruptly and realized she had more or less screamed herself awake.

“Ma?” She could tell Henry was worried even from the other side of the door.

“Yeah Henry?” and her throat felt raw.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, kid. I just, uh, had a hell of a nightmare.” She figured that didn’t really count as a lie. Though she wasn’t okay, she would be.

“Okay, well, good night,” he said, clearly not totally convinced but not going to push it.

It wasn’t a big deal, right? Regina’s kiss was chaste. It was affection. Friends did that sometimes. And Emma didn’t start it. It didn’t mean- it didn’t mean- She was straight. _Regina_ was straight, you know, with Daniel and Graham and Hood. It was fine. It was fine. Having another woman kiss her didn’t make her gay. Being gay was okay anyway.

She breathed slow and deep the way the prison yoga teacher had taught her, willing her breath to slow, her heart’s racing to gentle, her stomach to settle, her muscles to relax.

The panic receded, but she never did calm quite enough to fall back asleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch the little nod to Orange is the New Black? Yoga Jones FTW!
> 
> Thanks to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell. One chapter that comes in under a thousand words, and 24 hours later this thing was already my #4 most-subscribed story! Love each and every one of you who are reading and your excitement!

When Regina opened the door, Emma launched right in, trying to get out her planned statement before she lost her nerve. “Hey, I just- wanted to apologize for running out on you last night. Um-” Suddenly Emma wondered why the hell she’d shown up at Regina’s door without calling first. What if Robin was here? What if they’d been-

The queen’s reply cut through her rising worry. “Come in, Emma. I think we should talk.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Emma tried to joke, but she knew she hadn’t fooled the queen even a little bit. Regina led her into the warmly-lit study, and the symmetry with the first night they met made the blonde smile just a little despite the anxiety she could feel waiting to pounce.

They sat down across from each other and for a long moment just held one another’s gaze. Emma felt the buzz hovering at the edges of her perception threatening to creep in and cleared her throat to get on with it. “So, I’m sorry for last night, I-”

“It’s alright.” Regina gave her a soft, almost apologetic smile of a kind Emma had never seen. “I thought it was something we both wanted to pursue, but-”

“I like guys!” Emma blurted. “I’ve always liked guys. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong, or- I’m not some sort of homophobe. I’ve had gay friends. And you’re really wonderful and gorgeous and sexy-” She gulped, realizing what she was saying, and quickly changed directions. “So, thanks but no thanks, I don’t think any worse of you, and I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings, because I care about you.”

Regina’s look was nothing short of incredulous, and all the older woman could do for several moments was just stare at her. Finally, she replied, “You’re missing a crucial element in that neat tale you’re spinning that this is one-sided.”

“What?”

“You were a full participant in that kiss,” Regina insisted.

“What?” Emma repeated.

Regina flicked an elegant eyebrow. “Based on your _moan_ , you thoroughly enjoyed yourself.”

Emma honestly had no recollection of that. “What- but- um- I couldn’t possibly-” she sputtered.

“You did.  So spare me the part about how you aren’t attracted to me.” Regina’s tone was brittle and sharp now and Emma could tell that her feelings were hurt. That was the last thing she wanted. Fuck, maybe she should apologize? But Regina was the one who got so drunk she didn’t know who she was kissing. Better to just move on so they could pretend it never happened.

“Well, it’s fine, it’s over, it was a one-time thing. Beer goggles and all that.” She tried to give an encouraging smile, but knew she mostly failed.

Regina wasn’t remotely placated. “Go to hell. I knew exactly what I was doing and so did you. But I should certainly be used to mixed signals from you by now.”

“What?”

“You look at me like you love me one minute, and then like you want to tear my clothes off the next, and then five minutes later you’re going around with that disgusting _pirate_ like he’s worthy of you!” Regina was well and truly angry now, on her feet and pacing the small room.

Emma’s temper was rising as well, and she struggled to rein it in. She had a tendency to rage blackouts when she lost control. “Why are you turning this around on me? _You’re_ the one who got so drunk you thought you should kiss me!”

“And do you know why I was drinking so much? Because with my heart back in it was _killing_ me to see you with Hook! I thought we _had_ something.” The blonde hadn’t known it was possible to express exactly that concentration of bitterness, woundedness, and rage all at once.

“But you have a _boyfriend_!” Nothing was making sense anymore.

“For whom I _settled_ because it seemed clear you were never going to get your head out of your ass and make a move!” Regina exploded.

“That’s why you gave Robin your heart? Literally _and_ figuratively.” The blonde knew she shouldn’t sound quite so upset about that, but couldn’t help it.

“Careful, Ms. Swan, you sound jealous,” the queen taunted.

“Well- I mean- my chest _is_ kind of a lockbox for hearts. You could have- Dammit Regina you barely know him!” How dare the older woman try to make this about Emma instead of her excessive trusting of some random man who lived in the forest.

“He wants to _get_ to know me. He looks at me like he cares about me.” Regina’s tone was icy.

“Jesus Christ, Regina. _I_ care about you. You are one of the most important people in my life.” Why was she wheedling? What was this conversation getting at anymore, anyway?

Regina sighed. “Be that as it may, a woman needs a warm body in her bed from time to time, and he’s a good option despite the fact that I was in the mood for something a little curvier.”

These revelations were shaking everything Emma thought she knew about the queen. “You know, I honestly thought you were straight,” she blurted.

The queen laughed humorlessly at that. “You know, I never understood that about this world. People here just _insist_ on labels and identity categorization.”

“And everyone was just sexually _enlightened_ in the Enchanted Forest?” Emma had really had just about enough condescension for one day, on her feet now too in her irritation.

“Hardly,” the older woman snorted. “Most people coupled in heterosexual ways, and when people didn’t do the ‘normal’ thing there were consequences. But it was just a decision you made about who to take to bed with you.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Take women to bed with you?” Emma really didn’t have any idea why she was asking.

Regina’s head went back with rage at that. “You’re really going to behave as if you have some sort of entitlement to my sexual history?”

Emma saw red. “Fuck you, Regina. You kissed me. I’m straight, and you can do whatever the hell you want but don’t drag me into it.” She realized abruptly that she had been advancing toward the queen as she talked and was now more or less shouting into her face.

The older woman was abruptly calm. “Emma, you're scaring me.”

“You have _magic_ ,” the blonde snarled. “You can do anything you damn well want to me.”

“I don't want to use force on you,” Regina insisted.

“But you will,” Emma sneered. “You’re always willing to destroy anyone who crosses you.”

“No, I _really_ won’t, and I’ll thank you not to speak to me in that tone of voice,” and her voice cut like a whip.

Emma felt all her rage drain out of her, replaced by an incredible fear of loss. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t make me go away. I’ll be good.” She was shaking and rocking now.

“Emma-” Regina breathed, stepping forward and reaching out to touch her.

And then in the next moment they were kissing again, the contact sending heat surging through the blonde. Fuck- Regina’s mouth was both unbelievably soft and firmly insistent and it felt so good. Before long the older woman’s tongue was flicking against her lip, and a hungry little noise clawed its way out of Emma’s throat as she met it with her own. As the kiss deepened, the blonde brought one hand up to tangle in the queen’s hair and the other slid to her waist.

God damn the older woman was an amazing kisser, and the savior was sliding her hand down to Regina’s heartbreakingly perfect ass, pressing against her thigh and belly and- _breast_. Emma was kissing _a woman_ with overwhelming desire, and with that realization she released the queen like she’d been burned.

“Fuck. Fuck- fuck- fuck-” she muttered, feeling panic rolling over her. “I need a drink,” she gasped, and ran out of Regina’s house of the second time in as many days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some clear echoes of Chapters 3 and 4 of Swapped, because this story grew out of that one. I did my best to make the two diverge, but I’m not sure I was totally successful.
> 
> Thanks to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is just the inside of Emma’s brain while freaking out.

This time Emma did throw up. And throw up. And throw up.

When, finally, there was nothing left in her stomach, the blonde proceeded to refill it with alcohol. She found herself down by the docks nursing a bottle of- whatever the hell she had grabbed at the liquor store. She hadn’t looked, just swiped at the shelf and thrown a wad of cash at the clerk, and now she tried hard not to think about the times she’d talked with Regina on these very benches and mostly succeeded.

As she forced the disgusting cheap booze down her throat, a number of things became shockingly clear, one after another.

When Regina called Hook “your boyfriend” in Neverland, she’d been _jealous of him_ , not of the fact that Emma had someone interested in her and she didn’t.

After Henry had ice cream with Regina, he’d commented that the mayor had been weird about Walsh and asked when they had dated. Emma had laughed it off, but now she was seeing it in an entirely new light.

Unbidden, a series of memories raced through the savior’s mind, a litany of little flashes of hurt or irritation that had crossed Regina’s face over Hook or Neal.

Fuck. Fuck! What the hell was she going to do?

The rational part of her brain didn’t know why this freaked her out so much. Whatever, Regina had a thing for her. _Hook_ had a thing for her and they all survived. The queen, at least, was likely to be mature about it. Thanks but no thanks, I like us as friends, no hard feelings, I still care about you.

Right?

Regina wanted something Emma couldn’t give. The kiss was a mistake. Both times. They had just mistaken emotional connection for attraction. That was all- That was all-

You should never have a deep attachment to a woman outside of your family. Write it 50 times. 5 pages on why for tomorrow.

“You look at other women only long enough to-”

“Make sure you look prettier.”

“That wasn’t very convincing, Swan. No dinner again tonight.”

The searing pain of electricity, the unnatural snapping of joint and muscle, screams she realized were coming from her own throat.

And then she was in her own present body again, in Storybrooke, on the bench by the ocean. She hadn’t had a flashback to the electroshock in a long time. Years, except for one brief moment when she heard what Greg and Tamara had done to Regina-

What the hell was she going to do with Regina? She definitely did not feel that way about her, did not feel anything more than friendship or co-parenting or oh hey we’re kinda family because you got married off to the grandfather I never met that one time. She didn’t- she _couldn’t_ -

The memory of Regina’s body pressed against her, her amazing, perfect kisses, the desire that had raced through Emma’s veins, flooded her sense memory.

Damn Regina’s perfect body and pure-sex kisses. How fucking dare she make Emma feel this way? Emma never asked to feel like this. She didn’t ask to be kissed. Why the fuck did the queen assume it was okay to just _do_ that? She’d bashed Hook good and proper for doing the same thing in New York. It was totally fucking unacceptable to go around kissing people, _especially_ gay-kissing people!

She knew, intellectually, that The Facility were wrong. It’s not like she was some sort of homophobe. She was totally cool with Mulan and Aurora when they were in the Enchanted Forest and she had gay friends—well, acquaintances—in her bail-bondsperson life. She just wasn’t _like_ that. She liked _guy_ s. She’d _always_ liked guys. Oh sure, she could appreciate when a woman was objectively beautiful, as Regina was, but she didn’t want to-

She took a long swallow from the bottle, hoping the liquor would take her panic back down with it. It didn’t really. Shit, Regina was so effortlessly hot that she was probably some sort of lesbian sex goddess. Regina deserved some _skill_ in return.

Regina deserved- Regina deserved-

Regina deserved someone to put her first and make her feel amazing. And not, like, just in bed. After all the shit Regina had been through in her life, she deserved someone to love her completely, unconditionally, make her feel special.

Jesus, why did Emma have so many strong opinions about what Regina deserved? She shouldn’t care this much about the love life of someone who was her co-parent and, maybe, barely, her friend. It wasn’t her business.

If she’d ever needed proof that she was seriously screwed up, she supposed here it was. But in some strange way this was full circle. It had been The Facility that was finally too much, which had led her to gamble that she’d be able to survive on the street rather than endure one more day of aversion therapy, and that really was what set it all in motion. It was how she met Neal, had Henry, became linked to Regina in the first place.

She had only been experimenting, as kids do. Jessica had said they should practice for boys, and Emma had agreed, keeping to herself that she was also curious what it would be like to kiss a girl.

The fallout cured her of curiosity quite fast. There had been beating and starving and praying. It came in cycles, renewed with any sign of imperfect femininity, any appreciation of any woman for anything, culminating in her foster parents declaring that she needed professional help and shipping her off to The Facility.

She remembered how tentative those few kisses had been, how small and slight a thing compared to the enormity of the consequence. Nothing like Regina’s intensity, insistence, skill. If nothing else, that was the best damn kiss Emma had ever had.

And then she was heaving all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eches of Swapped again here.
> 
> I’m now looking at 8 chapters blocked out, and really, given the pacing it may well extend more so I don’t rush the healing. You’re sad, I’m sure. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Here be relatively graphic CaptainSwan sex in the name of “corrective heterosexuality.” It’s dubcon, even though Emma starts it, because she’s really in no mental/emotional condition to be consenting (now why does this sound so familiar?). It’s intended to be traumatic for Emma, so it may be for readers too. 
> 
> Can't post on my regular day, but instead of posting late here it is early!

After that, Emma went out of her way to avoid Regina. Over the next couple of weeks, Henry went back and forth between their two houses regularly, but Emma texted him and waited in the car for him to come out rather than walking to the front door, having a chat, lingering as she’d done before. The savior never answered their door when Regina came to get Henry, always “happening” to urgently need something in the other room the instant the knock came. She did everything she possibly could to not see the mayor, and she was pleasantly successful.

Sometime in the third week, while using her “Gosh, I need to brush my teeth right this second!” tactic, she heard an adult male voice talking to Henry. Pausing just long enough to drop the toothbrush and spit, she flung the bathroom door open to see Robin.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Robin’s going to teach me archery!” Henry exclaimed, excited.

“Aye, lad.” Robin smiled down at him in a way that was entirely too familiar for Emma’s taste. “Regina couldn’t get away from the mayor’s office and thought he might like some, what did she call it, male bonding? Then we’re going to have a family dinner.”

“Can I talk to you in the hallway?” Emma growled. Once the door shut behind them, she hissed “Henry has exactly _two_ parents. You are _not_ his fucking father.”

“I’m aware of that, love.”

“Don’t call me love, and tell Regina not to _ever_ fucking send you to pick up _our_ son again.” The thief looked a little startled by her intensity and the finger jabbed in his face, and Emma felt a grim satisfaction at that. 

**

The run-in with Robin left Emma rattled well into the next day, making her forget that Regina always went to Granny’s for lunch on Thursdays. The savior was just rounding the corner into the patio area when someone collided with her. Stumbling, Emma grabbed the other person on instinct to stay upright, and it was Regina.

Instantly the blonde’s senses were on fire. The scent of her, the sexy little “mm!” of surprise, soft curves pressed against her, taut muscle under Emma’s steadying hands on her waist, the way their bodies fit together so warm and so right, and-

“Sorry!” she exclaimed, turning to go, willing herself to walk and not run and barely, just barely, succeeding.

“Emma!” Regina called after her. She pretended not to hear.

**

Lunch forgotten, Emma wandered for a while in a daze. Oh god. Oh god. Was she- wet? Just from rubbing up against Regina and smelling her perfume? No- no- it couldn’t be.

Determination washed over her. She just needed to be fixed. She needed some firm man-body, chest hair and stubble, scents of sweat and cologne. All the things she was supposed to like. All the things she _did_ like. Did. Did.

Of course, Hook was entirely amenable when she grabbed him in Granny’s and hissed into his ear, “Take me to bed.”

As soon as he closed the door behind them he went to kiss her, and without really meaning to she turned her head, letting him mouth her neck instead, all spit and beard-scratch. She was pliable as he undressed her, even as he struggled with her unfamiliar underthings and snapped her bra. Good girls let their man take the lead.

She lay back, spread for him, waited for him to set his hook aside, floated along on the current of his man-desire. He groped and bit her breasts far harder than she liked, but it was okay. Roughness meant he couldn’t control his desire. She was wanted. It was good.

As he began to crawl down her body, she tensed. “Just fuck me,” she insisted, pulling at him to come back up. That was something lesbians did and she shouldn’t want or like it. Good heterosexuals only needed forceful penetration.

She was, barely, wet enough that it didn’t hurt when he pushed in. A good straight girl.

He was furry about the chest and the face and the legs. He smelled musky-manly and not at all pretty-girly. He rammed into her relentlessly, as he should. The pounding was the thud of rubber tubing in yet another beating, his panting in her ear was the sibilant hiss of condemnation and correction. This would fix her. She would be better. This was good.

When he groaned her name into her ear as he came, she was back in her body again. And he was also in her body. And his cum. They hadn’t used a condom. Fuck-

“Told you I’d shiver your timbers,” he murmured as he pulled out and rolled off.

She’d always known his love for her was selfish, but this drove it home in a new way. The fucker not only hadn’t noticed that she didn’t come, he hadn’t even noticed that she was completely unmoored from her own body. Well, he’d been quite anchored in her body, and clearly that was enough for his taste.

When he went into the bathroom, she threw on her clothes as fast as she could and left. Thankfully, Henry was with Regina so she had their suite to herself. She stood, staring blankly for long moments, not knowing what the hell to do now.

Then, she felt a wet trickle slide out of her and down her thigh, and she was gagging again, barely able to make it to the bathroom before losing what felt like everything she’d eaten for weeks.

As she collapsed back onto the cold tile, completely wrung out, she wondered what the hell she was doing. She felt utterly disgusting, and disgusted with herself. And she hurt. There hadn't been anything larger than fingers inside her recently.

Fingers-

Regina's fingers, pushing in steady and sweet. Regina's thumb tracing blissful circles on her clit. Regina's hot open mouth on her neck.  
  
She wondered why, when fucking Hook had made her so very sick, that her stomach only gave one half-hearted dry heave as she imagined being with Regina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Chapter 3, my third most-subscribed story ever. Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	5. Chapter 5

All she wanted was to get into the pharmacy, get a morning-after pill, and get out. That was simple enough.

And so of course Sneezy decided it was good for his health to give her side-eye before getting down what she’d asked for.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she demanded.

His eyes went wide at her expression and he sputtered, “Nothing, nothing.” He had the box on the counter and rung up in no time flat.

“Yeah, it better fucking be nothing,” she growled as she shoved the money at him.

“Emma?”

Of course she would run into Mary Margaret here, now, today, buying this. She glared once more at the dwarf, finished stuffing the box into the paper bag for him, and smoothed out her face into what she hoped was a convincingly pleasant expression before turning. “Hey, mom.”

“Is everything alright?” Snow asked, her eyes darting between her daughter and her old friend.

“Yeah, sure. I was just leaving. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Emma thought she’d gotten away clean, but she was only about three steps out the door when she heard her mother calling after her. “Emma, wait, can we talk?”

The savior took a breath before she turned. “Sure. What would you like to talk about?”

“Why are you being so weird with Regina? She mentioned that you’ve been avoiding her.”

Emma wasn’t sure why her temper was so high so quickly. “So now that you two finally buried the hatchet you’re ganging up on me? Why are you taking her side?”

Snow looked completely baffled. “There are sides?”

“She _kissed_ me,” Emma whispered, ashamed to her bones.

But her mother broke into a huge smile “Oh, how romantic! Henry’s parents, together. I always hoped it would be Neal, may he rest in peace, but this is almost _better_ now that I think of it. I owe your father five dollars, he always said there was something going on between you two-”

“What in the actual fuck, Mary Margaret?” Emma cut her off. “It’s bad enough that she- that I-” she sputtered. “It’s bad enough without you giving me shit for it.” And she turned and stalked off, feeling rage rolling through her.

“What? Emma? Emma!” Snow’s calls got increasingly anxious, but the savior just kept walking, too fast for Snow’s recently-pregnant body to keep up.

Turning the corner, Emma was met with another of the increasingly long list of people she did _not_ want to see right now.

Hook’s face lit up. “Swan! You left so fast we weren’t able to have a repeat performance. Shall we-” She slammed him into the wall with one well-placed palm strike to the solar plexus, and left him there struggling to catch his breath.

**

“God, kid, get your face outta that damn game for a second!”

“Why so I can spend another night watching you _drink_? No thanks.” Emma just gaped at him. “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?”

“Henry! Language! And-” she sputtered, “don’t talk to me like that, I’m your mother!”

“You could have fooled me. You’re not acting like yourself at _all_. Robin got really weird after you talked to him in the hallway the other day and Mary Margaret said you were weird today and Killian was asking what kind of _flowers_ you like and that’s _also_ really weird. But the biggest thing is you've been avoiding mom. Something _happened_ to you a couple weeks ago, ma, and I don't know what, but every time I try to talk to you about it you blow me off.”

“It’s not your business.  You live under _my_ roof and _I_ provide for you and you will be grateful and know your place and do what is proper.” Emma froze. How had that just come out of her mouth? That was what- he- said- oh god.

Henry gaped at her for a long moment, too angry to detect her internal turmoil. “Whatever,” he said finally. “I'm gonna go to mom's house. Call me when you’re ready to stop being a _dick_.”

She should reprimand him for his language. She should stop him from hiking across town alone in the dark. But she was so overcome with horror that all she could do was stare as he stormed out and slammed the door.

Of all the things she’d been worried about upon discovering she was pregnant, fucking her kid up had topped not being able to feed him as the ultimate terror that led her to give him up. Abandoned by her bio-parents, returned like some defective product by family after family, and then Them. And now here she was saying just what Michael had said, the day of the last straw.

After they’d caught her and Jessica kissing, there had been some slapping, but it hadn’t been so bad at first. They’d made her stop playing sports, stop wearing flannel, stop hanging around with the neighborhood boys after school. When she continued to sit with her legs comfortably apart, eat heartily, talk about friends who were girls with enthusiasm, she was graduated to the belt, and charm school, and church youth group on Thursdays and not just Sunday School.

It was when she’d hugged her youth group leader goodbye that she’d gotten the closed fist. She hadn’t been able to go to school the next day, she was so battered.

And the day after, He came. The admissions officer for The Facility had sat her down and explained that Michael and Mary, as her legal guardians, had decided that she needed more help than they could provide. He was going to take her to a special camp for troubled youth like her, where there were lots of exciting outdoor activities and top-notch education, and she was going to get better.

If before she’d felt sick, now she was just numb. She should go. She should go far away before she hurt Henry like They hurt her. She would go now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rock bottom. Emma can only go up from here. It won’t all be rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers; there’ll be work and backsliding and angst still, but because you’ve hung in this far I can tell you this is the turning point.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	6. Chapter 6

She heard the crunch of tires on gravel, the engine shutting off, the door slam. Once Regina was within ten feet of her she could _feel_ that it was her, confirming her hunch. She felt strangely calm about seeing the queen again despite all her effort to avoid precisely the conversation they were likely about to have. Or maybe her fight or flight response was just too exhausted after these past weeks to kick in.

 “Let me guess. Locator spell,” she said more than asked, not turning her head from where sat staring off into space at the edge of the gorge.

“You know me too well,” Regina conceded, a smile in her voice. “Here,” she added, and Emma saw her leather jacket come into her peripheral vision, clearly visible in the light of the nearly-full moon.

The savior was baffled, but still couldn’t quite look at her. “Huh?”

“It’s so linked to your identity that it was the best item to use to find you, and you must be cold out here at night in only a t-shirt.” When Emma didn’t take it, the queen draped it carefully over her shoulders, pulling back as soon as she could, clearly wary of touching too much. “I suspect you don’t want to see me right now, but we have to talk about this. We’re worried about you.”

“We, who? You and _Robin_?” the blonde sneered.

“No, though he did report that you, and I quote, shrieked at him like a banshee. By ‘we,’ I mean Henry and Snow and David and me: the people who care about you.”

“Don’t,” Emma breathed.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say you care about me,” she whispered into the still night air.

“But I _do_ , Emma,” the older woman insisted. “We have gone through too much to not come to trust and care about each other.” The queen sat down beside her, close but not too close.

Emma sighed. “Dammit, Regina, I’ve always been able to- _not_. Only you.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

The words were spilling out of her before she could stop them. “Have you ever done the math? I was 17 when I got pregnant with Henry. Seventeen and on the streets stealing to get by. Why do you think I was on my own?”

“I had a general sense that you must have fled a terrible situation, but I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Emma wasn’t ready. She’d never be ready. But somehow having Regina there just made her feel calmer, like this was a leap of faith and not the breaking of the dam she’d built around her traumas. Certainly, all her conditioning felt muted in the face of the trust and care she did in fact feel for the queen. She shrugged into her jacket, needing its armor now as she murmured, “My foster parents caught me kissing a girl. They sent me to- to a- Facility. To fix me.”

“Oh my god,” Regina gasped.

The story kept spilling out. “There are words for what they did to me, I learned later. Aversion therapy. Electroshock. Brainwashing. To make me a proper heterosexual.” She laughed humorlessly. “It worked. I never even considered doing it again.”

Regina made a small sound of sympathy low in her throat. “And when we kissed-” she prodded.

Emma’s smile was bitter. “After the first time, flashbacks. After the second time, throwing up, drinking, throwing up again.” She sighed. “I fucked Hook trying to make myself straight again.” She snorted at Regina’s wordless exclamation of disgust. “Yeah,” she agreed, turning to look at the queen for the first time, and she was inhumanly beautiful in the moonlight. “And a lot of rage,” she finished.

“What they did to you was wrong,” Regina insisted. “The worldview they imposed on you was _wrong_. You know that.”

“I do. But-” she trailed off, unable to express why it still held her captive.

“And yet it still impacts you on a visceral level,” Regina finished. Emma looked at her questioningly. “I know it better than you realize. My mother was-” she quirked her lips wryly, “quite a disciplinarian.” At the blonde’s continued gaze, she gave a tiny shake of her head. “We’re talking about you,” she insisted, but Emma heard the undertone that Regina was willing to open up to her and felt a little flicker of warmth in her icy chest.

Reaching out, she gripped the older woman’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, and suddenly she felt anchored for the first time since all this started. The buzz that had been hovering at the edges of her perception for weeks now receded in the face of the warmth where they touched. Not too close, not too much. It was just- steady- _care_.

“How are you not-” she paused. “How do you keep it together?”

“Twenty-odd years of therapy with Dr. Hopper,” Regina admitted. At Emma’s perplexed look, she explained, “It was a wonderfully adaptive curse.”

Emma snorted. “I always say, why pay to lie to a stranger when I can lie to my friends for free?”

Regina’s smile was bittersweet. “Fair enough. Lie to _me_. Or you can keep telling me the truth. I'm not much for cooing and petting people’s hair, but I believe in you, Emma.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Regina?” the blonde asked suspiciously.

The queen laughed. “As your mother reminded me recently, I care with my whole soul. I’m just incredibly selective about it.” That made Emma feel warm, too, and the silence that followed was easy and comfortable.

 “You would have kept it to yourself forever, wouldn’t you?” the savior asked finally.

“What would you have had me say? ‘You really bother me, Miss Swan, but I’m not sure what kind of tongue-lashing I want to give you’?” the older woman asked dryly.

Now it was Emma’s turn to laugh, because this snarky edge to their talk was so familiar, so right. It had always been their _way_ , pushing each other, being sarcastic, but now she saw clearly that there was something _more_ there, something deeper they’d built up over the time they’d known each other. She had missed this during their estrangement, realized now how much this closeness with Regina, even with the push-pull way they did it, had become a routine part of her life.

And in that moment she knew with crystal clarity that she _wanted_ this in her life. She wanted to try. To try to dig down under the scar tissue and find that kid who was curious about girl lips again. Push through the aversion therapy and the psychosomatic symptoms it still triggered to see what they could be to each other.

“I’m not gay,” she blurted, a reflex.

“You don’t have to let me into your bed, Emma. Just your head.”

“No, I-” she paused. “Can it just be only you? I’m straight, except for you?”

Regina smiled her rare, genuine smile. “You know I don’t care about labels. If this is what you want, I will end things with Robin in the morning.”

“You’d do that for me?” Emma had never had anyone willing to make that kind of an effort for her. It was the stuff of movies- or, fairytales.

“You’re the one that I want, Emma. He’s a shadow of you, a substitute,” the queen insisted, then muttered, half under her breath, “No matter what Tinkerbell says.”

Emma didn’t know what that meant, but let it be. “But I can’t lose you, Regina.” She paused, then clarified, “if this goes wrong, I mean. I have been abandoned so many times.”

“If I’ve learned one thing from your insufferably sappy parents, it’s tenacity with people one cares about. I won’t let you go. We're family now, whatever happens. ”

“Ew,” Emma said. “Then probably we shouldn't be kissing.”

Regina scoffed. “Not like _that_ , not through Snow. Or _Leopold_ ,” and there was so much disgust in that single word that Emma realized she’d never considered what that had been like for the older woman. “We are family through _Henry_. And through us. We're kin if we say so. I say so. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little echo at the beginning of Ani DiFranco’s “Gravel,” just cuz.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep two tiny facts from 3x22 and echo some dialogue and ignore the rest. I don’t think they constitute spoilers. I had to fuck with the timeline on the baby naming though.

It had been so late by the time she and Regina finished talking that Emma was unable to give Henry the apology he deserved, but the queen obligingly texted as soon as he was awake the next morning. After letting the blonde in, Regina excused herself to go make breakfast, leaving mother and son facing each other warily.

Emma took a deep breath and dived right in. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm- going through some stuff and I haven't been treating you very well."

He sighed. "I love you, mom. And I forgive you. But you're falling apart and I hate to see you hurting like this. Whatever it is, you don't have to do it alone. What can I do?"

Her heart felt impossibly full of love for him. "It's kind of too rough to tell you about. But," she added when he started to protest, "your mom is helping me."

"You guys are finally-" he began, excited, then stopped

"Wait, what?" Emma was entirely mystified.

"I don't know," Henry shrugged. "Just, the way you guys look at each other it seems like-" he paused, crinkling his brow in confusion. "I don't know," he said again. "Like you feel something big."

"Maybe," she said noncommittally, feeling a shadow of panic that she had not only had but shown such feelings without realizing.

He looked at her searchingly for a long moment. "Well whatever. I'm just glad you are letting somebody help you, and it's someone who cares as much about you as Mom." And then he was hugging her fiercely, and she forcefully and deliberately pushed her anxieties away.

**

The other event of the day was that Regina broke up with Robin.  

“How did he take it?” Emma asked, checking on instinct to see if anyone was looking before reaching to grip the queen’s hand again even though they were in Regina’s kitchen. She needed to feel a connection to her right now, but any greater touch still felt terrifyingly too much.

“He was perfectly fine. We were only dating a few weeks, after all. Not to mention the fact that we embarked on the relationship with full knowledge that we both were,” she paused, searching for phrasing, “grieving. He lost his wife quite recently,” she explained.

“And you lost Daniel.” Emma said. A little twinge of pain flickered to life in her chest, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Regina looked at her again for a long, long moment as she had when Emma said she knew the queen was telling the truth. “You perfect, beautiful, self-effacing idiot,” she breathed at last. “No, I lost _you_.”

All Emma could do was stare at her in awe, wondering how she’d gotten this lucky.

**

Things were rarely that easy, of course. When it turned out at the naming ceremony that night, held almost a full month for the next full moon because tradition dictated that it be so, that Snow and David had elected to name her brother Neal, it hit Emma hard in the gut. She pasted a pleasant smile on her face and made it through the obligatory, seemingly endless rounds of toasting, but as soon as she could she made a break for the cool night air. Once in the clear, she leaned against the wall, her head spinning, trying to control her breathing and willing her stomach to stay put.

Regina was there beside her seconds later, murmuring, “Talk to me, Emma. Stay here and now, don’t go into your past. Tell me.” The combination of careful bodily distance and emotional closeness ratcheted Emma’s anxiety down just enough that she could speak.

“They wanted me to be with Neal,” the blonde whispered. “They want me to be straight. They’ll hate and reject and abandon me if I’m with you.”

Regina muttered, “I’m experiencing a resurgence of my desire to kill your mother.” Stepping closer, she gripped Emma by the shoulders, and, startled, the blonde met her gaze. “They didn’t mean to imply anything about you. You know that. It was incredibly insensitive and thoughtless, absolutely, and you have every right to be angry. I know I am on your behalf.” She raised her lip in a little sneer. “Your mother is nothing if not _convinced_ that her every impulse is the unequivocally right thing to do, never thinking of consequences.”

“Can you tell me about what happened when you were younger? With Cora?” Emma blurted, feeling so exposed that she needed some equivalent soul-baring from the queen.

Regina gulped, but nodded. “Yes, but not here, and we can’t leave yet. It wouldn’t be proper and people would be obnoxious. Perhaps later this evening?”

Emma nodded back.

**

“My mother’s highest ambition was to be royalty,” Regina began once they were finally facing each other on the couch in her study. “She fell short of being queen because my father was a younger son, but she was,” and Regina sighed with what sounded like a lifetime worth of weariness, “ _very_ determined to leave her humble roots behind.” The older woman twisted her lips wryly. “Mother always said ‘commoner’ like it was the foulest thing imaginable. She demanded that I be a proper lady in every way.”

Emma hummed sympathetically. “I know the feeling.”

Regina quirked an eyebrow. “I would imagine. Now add corsets and tea times.” Emma chuckled. “Nothing I ever did was good enough for her,” the queen went on. “Literally the only time she _ever_ said she was proud of me was when I pretended to be excited about being Snow’s stepmother. She was so pleased that I was learning to be _strategic_.” The bitterness in Regina’s voice had Emma reaching to grip her hand.

“That’s pretty familiar, too,” she said, hoping she was being appropriately supportive. “I never did get the hang of being girly like they wanted.”

“I know, dear, I’ve met your jackets,” Regina teased. At Emma’s partly-joking, partly-serious offended look, she added, “You look very good in them, dear, but no one would mistake you for feminine when you wear them.”

“I can do feminine!” Emma insisted.

“Indeed. You clean up quite nicely,” Regina said, a little purr in her voice. They smiled at each other for a minute or two.

This was getting a little too intimate, giving Emma a hint of panic-adrenaline. “So, yeah, you _do_ know where I’m coming from, with who you are not being good enough,” the blonde tried to sum up.

“It was much more than that, Emma. When I failed, mother didn’t hesitate to use her magic to control me. I was suspended midair more times than I can count.” Regina stared off into space, little flickers of remembered terror and anger chasing themselves across her face. “And if we were alone, she would take advantage of the fact that magic leaves no marks.”

Emma gulped, knowing that experience all too well. Her foster parents had beaten her, but The Facility had much more subtle means at their disposal, particularly when they were tipped off that the social workers were coming.

Between her own anxiety rising and Regina’s clear pain, she felt herself drifting toward the queen, her hand sliding up from her palm to her elbow, then around her shoulders. They were so close now, physically closer than they had ever been, and as triggered as Emma was this should be making her run screaming for the door. But in the next moment they were wrapped up so tightly in each other, holding each other, keeping each other’s demons at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I kept: Marian must have died after the curse broke (NOT during Regina’s evil phase, thank you very much, because Roland remembers her). And the baby is still named Neal, for TEH DRAMAZ. Plus, I remixed Regina’s canonical comment about Snow (and Emma) not thinking about consequences. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	8. Chapter 8

While Emma had needed to apologize to Henry immediately for her behavior, she let other cleanup happen however it happened. Robin turned out to be relatively easy, because she went the bro route with headnodding and handshaking and not really talking about it. Hook she simply avoided, because if he hadn't understood that she wasn't interested before, he certainly would not comprehend it now.

Her mother, entirely wrapped up with the new baby, was also easy to also keep in the "avoid" column for a while, but inevitably one evening at a Charming family supper something or other set Emma off. She excused herself, went outside, tried to breathe. For long moments she struggled to stay calm, trying to remember what Regina did that worked when she got like this, imagining Regina's surprisingly soothing presence.

But then there was another presence, less soothing and comfortable in this moment but equally familiar. "Emma, I've tried to stay out of it, but please tell me what is going on with you," Snow said, leaning against the wall beside her.

The savior sighed. "I can't, mom. I just can't talk to you about it."

"But you can with Regina?" Snow was clearly a little hurt at her omission.

"Regina-" she paused, "understands. She had similar experiences. And, really, I don't want you to feel responsible for my bad childhood."

"But Regina _is_ responsible for your bad childhood," Mary Margaret sputtered.

"This again?" Emma asked, turning a sharp look on her mother as she felt a surge of offense on Regina’s behalf.

"I'm sorry. You're right. It was a reflex and I didn't really mean it. Her transformation is really remarkable.” Snow paused. “Have you thought about talking to Archie?”

Emma grimaced. “I like Archie as a person, and I’m sure he’s really good at his job, but therapy’s not really my thing. I’m working through it.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” her mother insisted.

“I've got Regina. I’ve got Henry. And as much as it pains me to say it when you’re prodding at me like this, I've got you.  My life is filled with more than enough support," the blonde retorted, equally adamant.

Mary Margaret sighed. “Point taken. I’m glad Regina is able to help you. And frankly, you both seem content in a way I've never seen. I just- wish you'd let me in."

Emma let the reality of her mother’s love wash over her and leaned her head on Snow's shoulder. "I'm working on it, mom."

**

Emma still found herself triggered a lot, but Regina assured her that was normal, and that progress was in how she dealt with it—by staying and talking rather than running, drinking, puking. There were days when any touch was too much and days when any distance was unbearable. But by and large, things were going well, even as Emma remained tentative about physical affection.

Today they were having lunch at Granny’s, and the savior was feeling incredibly content with how the two of them fit together. As they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, it gave Emma little flickers of desire that felt pleasant, possible, manageable. It was, perhaps, too good to last.

They were getting up to leave, laughing about something or other, Emma’s hand on Regina’s arm in _their spot_ , when there was a disgusted sound from the next table. Looking over, Dr. Whale was staring at them. “Now I know why you were always standing up for her,” he sneered at Emma. “Fucking dykes.”

Emma was in full panic mode instantly, rooted to the spot, praying that Regina would deny it, make this go away, something.

“What do you guys _do_ in bed together, anyway?” the slimy man went on.

Regina turned to the nurse who was clearly Whale’s lunch date with mock sympathy. “I am _so_ sorry, dear.”

“What?” the doctor demanded.

“If you think sex consists only of penetration, I feel _very_ bad for _her_ ,” she sneered, all queen in this moment.

No. This wasn’t happening. Regina was _not_ talking about _penetration_ in Granny’s. Emma was going to wake up in a cold sweat any second. Please, let her wake up in a cold sweat any second.

“You- you just- you can’t get a man,” Whale sputtered lamely in response.

Regina gave an evil little chuckle. “Victor, you know perfectly well I can have any man I like. Don’t take your-” and her eyes flicked to his lap, “deficiencies out on me.” She turned to the nurse. “When you’re tired of him, dear, let me know. There is absolutely nothing in the world like being with someone who knows how your body works.”

Oh god, that was entirely too explicit to be saying in public. And people would think Regina- and Emma- The savior had to stop this, but dizziness crashed through her.

The queen looked intently at the nurse and bit her lip, then looked back to Emma. “Shall we?” she purred before sauntering out the door with far more sway in her hips than was necessary, knowing all three of them were staring after her.

Emma stumbled out behind the older woman in a daze, got into the passenger seat beside her, rode along numbly for several blocks. “You let them think we were having _sex_ ,” she accused finally.

Regina, still keyed up from the conflict, looked at her sharply. “I know you are continuing to struggle with that being acceptable, and that’s a perfectly legitimate feeling. But I’m _completely_ comfortable with who I am.” She gave a delicate snort of amusement. “I also implied I’d bed the nurse, which clearly I would not.”

The queen’s dismissive tone did nothing to placate the savior. “But you made a _scene_ ,” Emma hissed. “Now everyone knows about _us_.”

Regina set her jaw stubbornly. “I’m not going to apologize for defending myself any more than I’m going to apologize for loving women, Ms. Swan.”

“Pull over,” Emma demanded.

“What?”

“Pull- over- and let me out. I don’t want to be in the fucking car with you anymore,” Emma growled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Regina insisted.

“I’m serious. You were totally out of line and- you can’t- you can’t _do_ that to me,” the blonde sputtered, unable to quite articulate what she meant.

"Emma, I will be patient as long as you need me to because I love you, but you don't decide what I do." Regina’s tone was icy.

"Fuck you. Fuck you! You've been _patient_ with me? I'm sorry my traumas have been so fucking hard on _you_. No. No." And then Emma was bailing out of the car right there at the stop sign, ignoring Regina calling her name.

It was only after running a block or two that she realized Regina had said she loved her.

**

“I’m sorry,” they both said simultaneously as soon as Regina opened the door.

"Let me," Emma insisted as soon as the queen had let her in. At Regina's nod, she took a deep breath. "I shouldn't care who knows I'm with you. Hell, I should be shouting it from the rooftops because who wouldn't gloat about dating someone whose hotness could start fires?"

The older woman’s cheeks colored in the tiniest possible pleased blush. "But you _do_ care. You were subject to powerful conditioning _precisely_ to care, and I should be more mindful of that."

"But you're right that I shouldn't impose it on you," Emma insisted.

Regina conceded the point with a nod. "And I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Are we okay?" Emma asked in the smallest imaginable voice.

The queen looked at her, half-tender, half-exasperated that she felt she needed to ask. "Of course, dear. I'm not going anywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little echo of the Xena-Cyrene conversation in Lyre, Lyre Hearts on Fire if you can spot it.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	9. Chapter 9

They settled into seeing a lot of each other: as two, with Henry, with Snow and Charming and baby Neal. Within the family, at least, everyone just started treating Emma and Regina as a unit even as it went unspoken exactly who they were to each other.

One evening, in the midst of what had become their regular "It’s after dinner and Henry is having his allotted video game time so we will cuddle up in the study" habit, it struck Emma forcefully. “We're not that different, you and I,” she said, popping her head up from where it rested on Regina’s chest to look her in the eye.

“Indeed we are not,” the queen agreed, looking down at where Emma was sprawled out against her, half draped over. After much trial and error they had settled into this position, which maximized closeness without making Emma feel trapped.

“So why am I so much more broken?”

Regina raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You _do_ remember that I cursed an entire realm,” she said more than asked.

“But you can _fuck_ who you want,” and Emma knew she sounded so bitter.

Regina chuckled. “No, I can't. Not yet. But someday she might be ready.” Emma’s breath whooshed out of her. The older woman stroked a soothing hand on the blonde’s back. “Too much?”

“No. Just- you _want_ me, and you’ll _wait_ for me to be ready, but you’re not pushing, and how are we both so comfortable with being-”

“Two extraordinarily well-matched people?” Regina interrupted, and Emma huffed out a laugh because she knew the queen was intentionally not letting her work herself into gay panic.

The blonde smiled and laid her head back down, listening to the steady thudding of the queen’s heart. But soon she found herself curious. “Did you always like girls?”

“I always liked _everyone_. It was only an _interest_ for women when I was young. And- Daniel was my whole existence while we lasted." She went silent for a moment, and Emma found herself tightening her arms around the older woman.

Finally, Regina went on. "I couldn't really explore my interest in women until I was queen, and even then much of the reason was that I couldn't very well have a man in my chambers while married to Leopold but a female friend was totally acceptable." She smirked a little. "Tinkerbell and I kept each other warm on many cold nights.” Noticing Emma staring at her, she scoffed. “Don’t pretend you’re surprised.”

“No, I’m- you mentioned something a while back, about Robin and that Tink would be opposed to you breaking up with him. What did you mean?”

 “It’s really not important,” Regina said with a small, dismissive gesture of the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Emma’s back.

A little spark of fear lit up in the blonde’s chest. “Now I feel like you’re hiding something.”

Regina sighed. “Tinkerbell is a bit of a hopeless romantic. She believes in soulmates nearly as much as your parents do. And since I was so unhappy in my marriage to Leopold, and Tink’s and my relationship was just casual fun, she took it upon herself to be my fairy godmother and find my destiny. Tink stole some magic to do it, and that was why Blue threw her out." The queen waved her hand in irritation.

"What does that have to do with Robin?" And why aren't you meeting my eyes, she wanted to add but didn't.

"I never went into the tavern to meet him, but the magic led me to a man with a lion tattoo. When Tink and I both discovered here in Storybrooke that Robin has the same tattoo, she dredged up the soulmate folderol again and encouraged me to take a chance on him, and I did.”

Emma was horrified. “You broke up with Robin for me. I took away your chance with your soulmate?” She started to breathe hard and scrambled to pull away, sit up, flee. “Oh god. This is wrong. We’re wrong.”

Regina let her create the distance she needed, knowing by now not to constrict her movement in these moments, but grabbed her hand. “Emma, Emma. Stay with me. Listen to my voice. That spell identified him as my soulmate _thirty-five years ago_. Before he met his wife, who was the love of his life. I pursued it here in Storybrooke because there was still potential there, based on who we were then. But it was no guarantee. And even if it were, _I would still_ _choose you_.”

That stopped Emma cold, and all she could do for long moments was stare at her. It felt so profound that it seemed entirely right to drape herself back over the queen’s body and kiss her just on the corner of her mouth.

Resting her forehead against Regina's temple, she felt her conditioning surge up, scream at her for voluntarily kissing a woman, for reveling in the touch of her, and she forced it down. This was just closeness, not sex. She could care for anybody. It was fine.

**

It was inevitable that Emma's luck at evading Hook would run out. She had used every perp trick she knew from her bail-bondsperson days, and it had worked for a surprisingly long time, but eventually he cornered her at Granny's before she could signal to Ruby to fake a crisis or call in an "emergency text."

"Swan, you've been avoiding me."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Did I do something wrong?" His expression was so sincere that she felt bad for him. 

And yet, he _had_ done something wrong, because he lived so much in his fantasy world that he had jumped at the chance to bed her, her previous thousand refusals not giving him any pause. He’d done something wrong because the sex was terrible and utterly selfish. He’d done something wrong because a _good_ friend would have noticed that she was hurting. But how could she tell him _any_ of that? 

"Hook-" she began, then corrected, "Killian, what I did with you was a mistake. And I'm sure that it gave you false hope that I was interested in you, and I am sorry if I hurt you."

"False hope? But you _are_ interested in me-" He looked sincerely perplexed.

Emma signed. "No, Killian. I'm not. I need you to really, really hear that, once and for all."

"It's Bae, isn't it? You're still grieving. I understand. I will wait for you as long as it takes," he declared, looking determined.

Emma felt her patience start to slip. "No, Hook, it's not. Please listen."

"Then there's someone else. Hood,” he guessed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I know Regina ended their relationship."

"No, it's not Robin." Emma shuddered a little.

"But there is someone else!" he insisted.

"Yes, there's someone else!" Fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. Now he'd think that was the reason. She took a deep breath. "But that isn't why. I like us as friends, Killian. I don't want to be romantically involved with you."

"Of course you do! No one can resist me! And you flirt with me quite shamelessly!” He scoffed, then demanded, “Who is this other suitor? I will challenge him for your hand!"

"And she will roast your ass to a crisp," Emma muttered. It had been all the savior could do to prevent the queen from doing just that when Emma had finally confessed how her attempt to re-heterosexualize herself had gone.

"She?" His eyebrows attempted to crawl off his face. "No. You do _that_?"

Emma felt the panic try to rise up, but her anger displaced it almost immediately. "No. Fuck you. Fuck. You. You don't have _any_ right to judge me. What Regina and I have is real, and earned, and not like the-” she scoffed, “ _infatuation_ you cooked up the instant you stopped trying to _kill_ me. We are two _people_ who understand and care for each other and you or anyone else can go to hell if you think we should be ashamed of that.”

Jesus, she’d just publicly claimed and defended her relationship with Regina, and it felt amazing, but she figured it was best to quit while she was ahead. “When you're ready to be a friend or even a decent fucking human being, we can talk, but until then stay the fuck away from me." And with that, she left him blinking, open-mouthed, and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	10. Chapter 10

Because Emma hadn't been able to cope with going out in public together since the run-in with Whale, they had been seeing each other only at their various homes: Regina's, Snow and David's, Emma's new apartment. But now, feeling emboldened by the way she'd stood up for their relationship to Hook, Emma was determined to try again. 

As a compromise with the anxiety that still cropped up unexpectedly—and which, Regina told her regretfully, probably always would—she planned them a picnic in the meadow that lay deep in Storybrooke's woods. As an act of defiance to the same anxiety, she went into Game of Thorns and bought a single, blood-red rose, daring Maurice with her eyes to say anything. 

The queen smiled at the flower, but blinked a little in surprise when she spied David's truck over Emma’s shoulder. "If something has happened to your car we can take mine, dear."

"The four-wheel drive will be helpful where we're going. And I know how you hate The Yellow Deathtrap," the blonde teased.

Regina gave her a small smile. "Actually, I was just thinking fondly of our stake-out. By some definitions that was our first date." At Emma’s raised eyebrow she clarified, “We were alone at night and had a beverage.”

“By that definition the day we _met_ was our first date,” the savior teased.

“My nostalgia is unmoved by your argument,” the queen insisted, a little hint of a pout in her expression.

Emma chuckled. "Can I give your nostalgia a raincheck?"

"Nostalgia has a short lifespan, I'm afraid," the older woman said, shaking her head in mock regret, then asked, "What are we doing today?" In the hint of excitement that flickered across her face, Emma could imagine the eager young girl she’d once been and felt a surge of tenderness.

"It's a surprise."

The queen gave her a skeptical look. "I hate surprises."

"I know. Do it for me," the blonde said, breaking out her patented puppy eyes.

"Very well, Ms. Swan,” Regina conceded. “I trust this is appropriate attire for your planned outdoor adventure?"

Emma's breath left her in a rush as she dropped her eyes from Regina's face to take in her outfit for the first time. The blonde could not remember the queen ever wearing jeans, and these clung to her every bit as much as Emma’s ever did. They were paired with a tight white v-neck that did amazing cleavage things and fuck- the savior had a sudden urge to tear it all off her right here.

That felt a little big for her still-fragile comfort level, and to break the tension, Emma went with a joke. “You look really good for being, like, seventy.”

“I believe you’ll find you want to amend that sentence,” the queen growled.

Emma broke into a grin. "You are so fucking gorgeous and I am so fucking lucky."

"There's my girl." And it turned out that to be hers felt pretty damn good.

**

When Emma hauled the picnic basket out of the bed of the truck, Regina teased, "I do hope you had better sense than to cook."

"Of course not, Your Majesty. I got Ruby to hook me up with your favorite things."

Regina raised an eyebrow, and Emma knew she was impressed despite herself. They spread out the blanket and Emma crouched to unpack the basket. As she pulled out the wine bottle and glasses, the queen gave a little hum of surprise. "Proper glassware. I _am_ impressed, Ms. Swan."

“Nothing is too good for my queen,” she replied with mock-deference and much batting of eyelashes.

“You’re ridiculous,” Regina insisted, but her face belied her stern tone.

**

They had made it through lunch and were lounging on the blanket when the sky opened up in a sudden summer thunderstorm. They scrambled to gather things up and ran for shelter under a nearby tree, closer than the truck, but Emma couldn’t help laughing. In the few seconds it took to reach cover, they were soaked.

Turning to Regina, she felt the smile slide off her face into awe, and all she could do was stare for long moments. The queen’s hair was completely plastered to her head, rain still running off her, but she was so beautiful.  A little drop of water was hanging from the tip of her nose, and Emma leaned in and kissed it off. Then she reached up and cupped Regina’s face in both hands, staring into her eyes.

“Don’t do this if you’re not ready,” the older woman warned, little flickers of fear and hope across her face.

“I’m done running,” Emma answered, and kissed her.

Regina’s lips were as perfectly soft as she remembered. Their contact was sweet and intense and _right_ in a way Emma would never have imagined when she’d panicked months ago. She sank into the sensation, almost floating on the physical warmth and the emotional warmth that bubbled up with it. This intimacy was worth every panic attack it had taken to get here.

In the next moment the kiss intensified by mutual accord. Emma kissed the queen slow and deep, pushing all her care and trust and desire into Regina’s mouth with her tongue and taking the older woman’s feelings in the same way. They were so connected, so perfect, so beautiful together.

When Regina gave a little hum of pleasure against Emma’s mouth, desire surged through her. God, the skill of Regina’s mouth, her focus and passion, the way she was digging eager fingertips into the strong muscles of Emma’s back now—it was all driving her wild. The blonde found herself sliding one hand around Regina’s jaw to cup the back of her neck and dropping the other to her waist to pull their bodies tight together.

And this was incredibly intense, a far greater connection than Emma had ever felt for another person, even in sex, and then she felt a different spark in her chest. It felt magical. No, it _was_ magic. She pulled back, startled. 

"It's alright," Regina murmured soothingly, eyes still closed, clearly thinking the blonde was having a panic attack. 

"No, Regina, look." The tree had burst into bloom. "Did you do that?"

The queen’s eyes snapped open and followed the savior’s line of sight to the branches above them, and she was baffled now, too. "No. It must be you."

"But-” Emma sputtered, “Zelena took my magic."

"Try something," the older woman insisted.

Holding out one hand, Emma conjured a tiny fireball, weak but definitely there. "My magic is back, but how-"

“Magic is emotion,” Regina whispered, then kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epic author note ahead: So, I always knew Emma was going to get her magic back by kissing Regina (because 3x21 and 22 didn’t happen in this fic, THANK GOD). And then I got caught in a torrential downpour and thought about how much better it is to have water dripping from the tip of your nose when there’s a cute girl to kiss it off (which puts me in the position of eroticizing Emma here, and that’s weird but neither here nor there). So then I started writing them kissing in a rainstorm. And then it turned into an echo of the “magic!kissing in a rainstorm” scene in A Dark Ocean, so here’s my acknowledgement of that.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	11. Chapter 11

Emma hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But as she approached the doorway to Regina’s kitchen she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard her mother say “I haven't seen you this happy since-”

_Daniel_ , the word hung unspoken between them. The savior leaned against the wall as that reality hit her.

“I know,” Regina replied, and Emma could hear a wealth of feeling behind the simple statement.

 “It feels full circle, in a sense,” Snow added. “I took your happiness, but I also gave it back.”

Regina sniffed. “Alternately, it could be that dating your daughter is the best revenge,” she said in what they all called her Evil Queen voice.

Emma was startled, but heard her mother laugh. “Fortunately, I know you too well for that. You’re totally enamored.”

There was a long pause before the queen confirmed, “That I am.” Emma felt relief wash over her. “Although I do have to ask when we became people who engage in _girl talk_ ,” Regina snarked.

“I’m sorry that we ever stopped. I remember adoring that sweet, excited girl who told me about true love. It was unreasonable to ask someone only six years older than me to replace my mother, but we could have been great friends.” Mary Margaret paused. Sighed? Emma couldn’t hear. “I loved you, in my selfish little way, and I was so excited to have you as part of my family.” Regina huffed a laugh. “No, really. And I’m not sure that sense of family ever really went away, despite, well, everything. I am so glad that we are family again, Regina.”

And god, that was so much weight to put on this fledgling relationship. Emma was going to fuck it up. She was going to fuck everything up, and not only destroy her own happiness, but Regina’s, Henry’s, Snow’s. Maybe that was why she wasn’t supposed to care for women. The feelings were too big, too important, too dangerous. Men were so much lower emotional stakes.

It wasn’t until the cool evening air touched her skin that she realized she’d wandered outside. In a daze, she slumped down on the bench in the garden, anxieties chasing themselves around her head.

**

Emma didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when she heard the door open and someone come out to join her. It wasn’t Regina, she could tell, and for the first time she didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved. The blonde had become willing to open up to the queen about her past, but the present, especially Regina herself, was another matter.

“Emma, honey?” Mary Margaret. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“I didn’t mean to listen in, but I overheard you and Regina talking about- us. And, uh-” she gave a humorless laugh, “I needed some air.”

“But Emma, I approve,” Snow insisted, perplexed, as she sat down beside her. “Your father and I both do.”

“Frankly, you approve a little too much.”

“That doesn’t make any-” Snow stopped, took a deep breath, and started again. “I mean, what do you mean?”

“Well- I’m sure Regina has told you,” Emma said, experiencing a fresh wave of shame about her past.

“No,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Regina has been quite protective of you and adamant that it’s not her story to tell. I do admire it even if it annoys me.”

Emma found herself wishing her mother _did_ already know so that she wouldn’t have to say it. “I have a hard time believing that being with Regina is okay,” she managed.

“But we are all so happy for both of you!” Snow exclaimed. “Me, your father, Henry-” she trailed off, tilting her head in confusion.

The blonde swallowed hard. “And that makes it harder. I-” It was best not to go into specifics, lest this become about Snow’s guilt. “I had it impressed upon me very forcefully when I was young that I should not feel for women what I feel for Regina.”

“Oh honey,” Snow sighed. “Love is never wrong.”

Emma felt a flicker of anger push its way past her anxiety. “And there you go again, putting too much weight on it. _Love_ is too big a word for me. When what we have gets the added responsibility of being your link to Regina as family again, it’s too big for me. When I can practically hear you planning our wedding in your head- it is- too big- for me.” She had become more emphatic as she spoke, gritting it out by the end.

Snow took a deep breath. “Okay. I hear you.” She paused. “But I also need you to hear _me_. Whatever this relationship with Regina is, whatever form it ultimately takes, it is _beautiful_.” She reached over and grasped Emma’s hands in her own. “It is real. It is true. You make each other happy. That is all I ever wanted for you.” She paused, then squeezed her hands for emphasis. “That’s all. No expectations from me. Just support.”

“Thanks, mom.”

**

“You know that if you want Henry can stay with us sometime,” David said quietly as she helped him load up Mary Margaret’s SUV for the trip home. There was truly a mountain of baby stuff required for even the shortest excursion.

“What?” Emma was honestly baffled.

“You know, if you want to be _alone_ with Regina.”

His face was so earnest and his tone so conspiratorial and his phrasing so euphemistic that she chuckled a little. “Jesus, David. It feels like you’re giving me The Talk.”

He laughed too. “Sorry. I just- wanted to offer as a sign of support. You two are something special, you know?”

As she turned back to the house and caught sight of the queen on the porch, arm slung around Henry, pretending to talk to Snow but really eye-snuggling baby Neal, she suddenly did know. “Yeah.”

“And hey,” he added, “maybe you could take Neal sometime? ‘Cause, you know-”

“Well as long as we’re in parent-child mode: Gross, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little echo of Melissa Etheridge’s “Silent Legacy.”
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	12. Chapter 12

After the picnic, Emma and Regina had taken to kissing regularly, at least when they were alone. The thought of doing it in front of people, even their oh-so-excessively-supportive family, still made Emma dizzy, but when it was just the two of them she couldn’t get enough. Indeed, nearly every night since then had culminated in a make-out session of some sort, deep, sweet kisses and soft, warm nuzzling and mapping the contours of each other’s clothed bodies with eager, undemanding hands. Emma had, fortunately, quickly learned to control the surge of magic that came with the intensity of their contact.

Sometimes they would taper off naturally into sleepy kisses. One of those nights, at Regina’s, the queen had fallen asleep. Emma slipped from the bed, left a few sweet sentences on a scrap of paper, turned out the light, and went home. Another time, the older woman fell asleep on the couch, and Emma watched her sleep for a few minutes before she woke her and sent her to bed. On only one occasion had Emma fallen asleep first, perhaps because they were in her bed. She woke the next morning intertwined tightly with Regina and felt incredibly safe and comfortable for about half an hour before having a massive panic attack about moving too fast.

At other times, after they kissed for a while Emma would actively decide that they needed to stop before things got out of hand. Alone in her bed on those nights, she sometimes got herself off thinking of Regina’s perfect body and how someday soon she would get to see her, touch her, be touched by her. But there were days when as soon as she touched herself she was hit with a reflex of horror at the thought of having an orgasm in relation to a woman. When that happened she just had to breathe slowly and plead with her stomach to stay put and the room to stop spinning.

And some nights they couldn’t start kissing at all, her demons were so loud.

Tonight, Henry was in bed and the dishes were washed, and this was when they’d usually move to the couch or the bedroom or Emma would be too edgy and more or less flee. But it felt different this time, after overhearing Regina talking to her mom, after talking to her mom herself, after talking to her dad. As they hovered in indecision, Emma thought Regina looked just a little wistful, a little needy, but knew the queen wouldn’t ask because she was too proud or because she didn’t want to push.

The blonde was startled to find that she wanted to stay. “Hey, it’s pretty late. How ‘bout I sleep here tonight?” She turned her head away and looked out of the corner of her eye, suddenly shy. “You know, if there’s space in your bed.”

The way Regina’s eyes lit up above her controlled smile made the savior hope to god she was right about this.

**

In the morning, the first sensation of which Emma became aware was Regina’s hair tickling her nose both literally and as a delightfully familiar scent. The blonde was spooned around the queen, face tucked into her shoulder. Regina’s hand rested on her bicep where it draped across her chest and Emma’s leg was gripped between the older woman’s thighs. The savior shifted her face out of the way, rubbing it on her shoulder to stop the tickling, but otherwise this was almost painfully perfect and she wanted to stay just like this forever.

Unfortunately, she very soon realized that she really had to pee. She disentangled herself carefully, hoping not to wake the queen, and called it a success when the older woman only made a grumpy little sleepy noise and huddled down further into the bedding.

Coming back into the bedroom, she was struck with the sight of Regina, her skin glowing golden in the sunlight streaming in through the window and her hair mussed with sleep and her face- god, her face completely peaceful. She was so fucking beautiful, and Emma felt- she felt so-

Then the queen was inhaling sharply as she awakened. She blinked for a few moments, and then her eyes found Emma standing two steps into the room, staring.

“Emma?” she asked, but her sleep-roughened voice cracked on the second syllable, making it come out “Em?”

The blonde felt herself smiling so hard she thought her face might crack apart. “I love you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I love you,” Emma repeated more emphatically, crossing the room, lifting up the covers, crawling back onto the bed, and climbing on top of Regina, who obligingly shifted onto her back beneath her, her expression somewhere between startled and hopeful.   

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she chanted, peppering kisses on the queen’s eyelids, chin, sternum. She was overcome with how delighted she was by this person. “And you're gorgeous and perfect and you believe in me and you never gave up on me even though I was so broken-”

“Emma, Emma,” the older woman interrupted with a little joyful laugh, “You don't have to say it all right now.” She smiled and pulled the savior down for a gentle kiss.

“But I'm ready,” Emma said when they parted, never more sure of anything in her life.

“What, dear?”

"I want, um, to, uh, go to bed with you. I mean, we’re _in_ bed, but you know, the other kind," she fumbled.

The light dimmed a little in Regina’s eyes. "If you can't even say it-"

"I need to do this for you," the blonde insisted.

The older woman sighed. "It can't be for me, Emma."

"No, I mean, _I_ need to do this. _Me_. I need- I want- Suddenly all I can think about is how much I want to make you feel amazing." The savior couldn’t explain it, but suddenly the world seemed full of possibility, and this was a possibility she very much wanted to explore.

“While I very much like the sound of that, you're certain?"

"It's like you don't want me to fuck you,” the blonde muttered.

"Mm,” Regina hummed, and fuck, that was hot. “I do,” she insisted. “I just want to be completely sure you are ready to go to bed with a woman."

"Not a woman. Or," she hastened to correct at Regina's raised eyebrow, "I mean, not any woman. Only you. You," and she chuckled and half-sang "my brown-eyed girl."

"I can't decide if that's adorable or terrible"

 "Think about it and get back to me. I’m gonna see if David’s offer to take Henry stands. Tonight. I mean, if you want to."

“Yes, idiot,” Regina sighed, but she was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to my delightful beta/psychological realism sounding board michebellaxo.


	13. Chapter 13

Emma worried that it would be awkward, that the weight of knowing that this was The First Time, that they’d arranged it specially, that it had taken so much work to get here would make them hesitate.

That, it turned out, was silly. As soon as Regina’s bedroom door was locked behind them (just in case), they fell right into the natural intensity their kissing always carried, their bodies pressed tight together and their hands cupping jaws, tangling in hair, clutching backs, grasping hips.

Soon the queen was pulling at the blonde’s tank top, hauling it up just enough to slip underneath, sliding warm and eager fingertips over her sides and back, and all the while they were kissing, kissing, getting lost in this contact that was both achingly familiar and filled with a new charge tonight.

After long moments of this, Regina gripped the savior’s shirt again, pulling it all the way off this time, and the touch of cool air made Emma suddenly desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Her hands moved immediately to the buttons holding the older woman’s shirt taut across her chest, and she pulled away from her mouth just enough to murmur, “I love these straining buttons.”

Regina laughed a little, then gave a small gasp of pleasure-surprise as Emma trailed kisses over her chin and down her throat to her collar, following the retreat of cloth across her shoulder with her mouth as she slid it off. Emma moved on to kissing the queen’s upper chest as she let the shirt flutter to the floor, but when her hands reached back up and met the older woman’s bra she faltered.

Regina hummed and kissed her sweetly, effectively changing the subject by guiding Emma down onto the bed and climbing on top, their bra-clad upper bodies still providing enough skin contact to make the blonde groan. It made sense for the queen to take charge, the savior told herself, since she had all the experience.

The queen began interspersing their kisses with nipping at Emma’s lips, running her teeth over her jaw, sucking lightly at her neck, re-grounding them at the mouth between each new caress, their bodies sliding together skin and clothed hips and thighs.

“Fuck,” Emma moaned after many minutes of this. She brought both hands up to the clasp of the older woman’s bra again, feeling determined this time. “Can I?” she asked, needing to be sure.

“Yes,” the queen purred. Tracing her fingers along the waistband of Emma’s jeans, she asked, “May _I_?”

“Fuck, yes,” Emma groaned, carefully disengaging the hooks on the older woman’s undergarment from this entirely unfamiliar angle and then lifting her hips when nudged. She took her own bra off as soon as her ass hit the bed again and she had the leverage to arch her back. No longer distracted by logistics, the blonde caught sight of Regina topless for the first time and the whole world seemed to stop. Fuck, she was fucking gorgeous, and her breasts were perfect, her taut nipples just begging to be touched.

Then she realized that Regina had stopped, and she felt self-conscious, as if she’d done something wrong. Dragging her eyes up to the queen’s face, she realized the older woman was doing exactly the same thing. They’d both been completely distracted by each other’s bare breasts, and Emma started to laugh, joined after a moment by Regina.

“Get your pants off and come here,” Emma chuckled. At Regina’s raised eyebrow, she added, “Please?” As the queen climbed back onto the bed, the both of them now wearing only panties, Emma ran her hands up from the knees on either side of her hips, to Regina’s sides, to her ribs, and then asked, “Can I?”

“You may if I may,” Regina smiled, her own hands poised.

“Yes, please,” Emma breathed, cupping both of Regina’s breasts gently. They fit so perfectly in her hands, and when she brushed her thumbs carefully over the queen’s nipples an amazing shudder ran through the older woman’s body.

“Harder,” Regina suggested, and Emma brought up her forefinger to pinch lightly, smiling at the “Yes,” this pulled from deep in the queen’s chest. She was a rockstar of touching breasts!

She was touching _breasts_. She was in bed with a woman. No. _No._ She forced the panic back down. She was in bed with _Regina_ , a _person_ she cared for deeply and wanted to give pleasant sensations to. That was all.

Then Emma’s attention was abruptly entirely taken up with the pleasant sensations happening to her own body as the queen began touching her. The older woman switched between kneading at the blonde’s breasts lightly and tracing teasing fingers around everywhere except her nipples. Emma’s attention switched rapidly between the sensations she was experiencing and her desire to touch Regina, unable to focus on either for long because they were both so good.

Then Regina saved her further dilemma by sliding down her body and leaning over. Pausing just above one straining nipple, she asked, “May I?” Her hot breath was a caress, and Emma was a little embarrassed that her assent came out more like a moan.

“You’re very sensitive,” Regina commented, flicking the blonde’s nipple with just the tip of her tongue and making her whole body twitch.

“Fuck,” Emma groaned. “Maybe you’re just unnaturally good.”

“That as well,” the queen smirked. Then she took the savior’s nipple into her mouth and god her touch was so eager, so intent, so perfect. All Emma could do was moan and cup the back of her head in an unspoken plea to keep going, her intent to keep teasing the queen’s nipples at the same time entirely forgotten.

Regina’s mouth was incredibly hot and incredibly adept, caressing one breast and then the other, driving the blonde crazy with want and with never knowing whether the next touch would be to her suddenly hypersensitive nipples or teasingly elsewhere, whether she was going to get wet sucking, a sharp nip, a cool stream of air, or a playful kiss.

Soon Emma’s hips began to jerk in time with the queen’s touches, and Regina shifted to press a thigh firmly between her legs. At the first contact the savior gasped not only because it felt incredible but because she was wetter than she could ever remember.

“God, Regina, more- I need-” Emma didn’t know what she needed. “Touch me. Something. Anything.”

The queen pulled her mouth away from its delicious torture of her nipples and looked down at her with affection. “We can use a strap-on if you’d like a more familiar experience.”

Emma shook her head. “Maybe someday. Not the first time. I know you. You’d always wonder if I wished you were a man.” She smiled. “ _You_ are plenty. Only you.”

Regina kissed her fiercely again at that, rocking her thigh where Emma could feel she’d soaked her panties through for long moments before shifting her weight and hooking her fingers in to pull the last barrier away.

“Yours too,” the blonde insisted. “I want all of you.” The queen obligingly stripped herself as well before returning to her former position, kissing Emma deeply at the same time that her hand trailed slowly up her thigh.

When the older woman’s fingers made contact where Emma was dripping, they both moaned and Regina ground her hips against Emma’s thigh and fuck- the queen was so _wet_ and Emma just needed to touch her.

"No, wait. You. That's what I want," she insisted.

Regina was startled, but entirely obliging as the blonde rolled them over. Staring down at her, Emma felt her confidence fade a little bit. "But, um, like, I know what _I_ like but I'm not totally sure what to do. I just really, _really_ want to touch you." Emma felt like an idiot, because she’d certainly had enough sex to know what the hell she was doing, but this felt both utterly foreign and incredibly important to do right and she suddenly felt like she couldn’t trust even her most basic instincts.

"Contrary to popular belief, we’re not hard to operate,” the queen teased, cupping the blonde’s cheek in her hand. “A good lover is attentive, and you have proven time and again that you can read me. I’m not worried."

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the blonde hummed, kissing her intently again for a few minutes before beginning to work her way downward. Regina’s collarbones were a delight in her mouth, and she stroked her cheek on the queen’s sternum, and she pressed a sweet kiss between her breasts. And then- oh- her breasts. Emma kissed each nipple and then oh-so-tentatively took one into her mouth. God, making contact felt so good, and Regina’s sharp inhalation made it even better. The blonde sucked experimentally, and Regina groaned. She swirled her tongue, and that was almost a whimper.

Looking up, the savior met the queen’s eyes and her mouth curved involuntarily into a smile at the look of sheer desire on her face. She was going to make this woman- this _person_ feel amazing, because she adored her so completely. The blonde intensified her touch, switching back and forth and adding the sharp edge of teeth. Regina’s moan made her ache with wanting.

After long minutes of this, the queen’s hips were twitching hard, and Emma could tell that she wanted to insist on more but was restraining herself. The savior began to kiss down the smooth expanse of her stomach, and Regina caught her chin with gentle fingers.

“You can start with something,” she paused, “simpler.”

“But- it's better than fingers.” Emma felt the anxiety start to push forward again and realized she’d relied on momentum. She hadn’t actually made a conscious decision to go down on Regina, had only wanted to make her feel good and hadn’t thought too hard about how she was going to do it. But dammit, it _was_ good, and Regina _deserved_ good, and she was going to fucking _do_ it.

“To repeat your own statement back to you, I don't need anything in particular. Only you.”

 “I want to. Please?” Emma felt a little sheepish at her own desirous whine.

Regina chuckled. “I certainly won’t deny you.”       

Emma grinned and kept kissing down, belly button and hipbones, nuzzling the older woman’s thigh for just a moment and feeling heat against her cheek. Here it was, the moment of truth, when she was going to do wrong- no, _unfamiliar_ things because Regina was so- fucking- worth it. She pressed a soft, closed-mouthed kiss against her first, then took a single, slow swipe with her tongue, and when Regina’s body shuddered hard in response Emma wanted- wanted- wanted. Her next caresses were still soft, slow, steady, but she brought her whole mouth to bear, needing so much more contact.

Regina was in her mouth, all wetness and heat and, okay, _that_ was what a clit felt like under one’s tongue. And fuck- she _could_ read her by listening to her breath and the pitch of the noises she was making. Emma intensified her caress, flicking faster against her, and the queen was making little sounds low in her chest now that hovered deliciously between a groan and a whimper, rolling her hips just a little against the blonde’s mouth.

 “Go inside, please,” the older woman gasped, and Emma had her hand poised before she could even think, index and middle fingers extended on some instinct. The room started to spin slightly as her fingertips rested against where the queen needed her. What was she doing? How as this okay? Why did she think she-

“Emma?” Regina asked, concerned. Meeting her gaze, the blonde felt anchored again, and smiled before pressing in slowly and beginning to stroke with her tongue again. Being _inside_ the queen’s body was wondrous: the slickness of her, the clutching muscles, the way her hips moved in a counterpoint to the savior’s steady in and out stroking. This was so fucking beautiful. It wasn’t about gender or sexual orientation. It was about _this person_ , Regina, and she wanted to make her feel . . . everything.

She’d always found the phrase “making love” ridiculous. Still did. But there was really no other way to describe this moment, how much she felt looking up with Regina on her tongue and in her heart, staring into bright brown eyes. She wanted to give her everything forever. The savior lost herself in reading Regina, trying to touch her exactly right to make this perfect.

Then the queen was reaching down to cup her face again. “Emma, I need you up here.”

“Am I really that bad at it?” She really didn’t want to stop. How had she gone her whole life without Regina’s pussy in her mouth?

Regina laughed. “Not at all, my darling. But I need you closer. Please.”

Obediently, the blonde crawled back up the older woman’s body, then slid her fingers back in easy as breathing, and the way Regina’s body arched sharply against her in response was incredibly hot.  She found her thumb slipping easily against the queen’s clit, her hand fitting exactly right, and when Regina wrapped her legs around her and pulled her down for a searing kiss, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

They fell immediately into a rhythm, their bodies rocking together as they kissed like it was the end of the world. Emma could feel Regina spiraling higher and instinctually intensified her caress. They were so well-matched, like they were made for each other, two people becoming one perfect thing for several exquisite minutes.

Then the queen was clutching hard at her shoulders, every muscle clenching in orgasm.

Feeling it from the inside was a nearly religious experience, and all the blonde could do was stare down at her in wonderment that she was able to make this amazing person feel something that powerful.

Regina needed a few minutes to recover, and they kissed lazily, caressing each other with warm hands. But when the queen rolled Emma onto her back and turned a look on her that could only be described as _hungry_ , the blonde was abruptly reminded how slick and ready she was. The older woman straddled her hips, teasing her nipples with gentle fingers for a moment while taking her in with eager eyes.

But when Regina leaned down to kiss her, exactly as they had been kissing, her hair falling around Emma’s face the way it had many times before, the savior froze. This was a woman. She was having sex with a woman. What the fuck was she doing?

Regina had shifted off her in a heartbeat, hand cupping her cheek as she murmured. “Come back to me, Emma. Stay with me. Stay here and now. We’re just two people. It’s only me. Just you and me.”

“Just two people,” Emma repeated, a waver in her voice.

“Two people who love each other,” the queen added.

Emma felt her panic recede. Yes, this was an act of love between them. Beautiful, pure, true. She smiled. “Love you.”

“And I you,” the older woman breathed.

“Touch me?” the blonde asked, her tone uncertain more from embarrassment at asking than the anxiety she had just pushed through.

Regina continued looking down at her with concern, not moving to do as she’d been asked. “I’m sure,” Emma added.

The queen started again nearly from the beginning, lying beside the blonde rather than risking making her feel trapped by straddling her again, kissing her slowly and gently for several minutes before kissing and nipping and nuzzling her way along her jaw, down her neck, across her chest. The queen made eye contact again before touching her breast, and Emma felt incredibly cared for as she nodded eagerly.

Regina’s mouth felt amazing on her nipples again, wet, hot, and nimble, and Emma found herself twining fingers in silky dark hair to cradle the queen against her chest. But soon she let go to let the older woman move downward again, tracing a wandering path of kisses on her ribs, abs, hipbones, checking in by meeting her eyes once more before coaxing the savior’s thighs apart and settling between them.

For all Regina was an incredibly passionate person, the first touch was exquisitely gentle. The queen began by exploring all of Emma with slow, wet strokes of her tongue. Regina licked like she had all the time in the world—the outer edge; the inner edge; inside as far as her tongue could reach; and then, and only then, directly on her clit, but easy and soft and sweet.

“God,” Emma breathed, staring down at her. This was impossibly good, those bright brown eyes staring up at her with so much love in them and that perfect mouth doing unspeakably perfect things. The older woman narrowed the circuit her tongue traversed to circle with more focus around Emma’s clit, but kept her touch soft and slow and steady. The blonde felt every touch twice, once as pleasure and again as a surge of adoration in her chest.

It was building so quickly, because Regina read her so well, giving exactly the right amount of more and not too much, and the savior was getting close now, but she wanted this to last forever, just them, locked together at the eyes.

Then Emma’s eyes closed involuntarily as she came.

Regina crawled back up her body to lay beside her, draping herself half over and gently stroking the blonde’s arms, shoulders, ribs as she trembled with aftershocks. As soon as she had motor control again, Emma turned her head to kiss the queen, moaning a little at the taste of herself. She’d never liked it when guys kissed her after, afraid, she supposed, that she’d like the taste of pussy too much. As it turned out, she really fucking did, and tasting herself made her want to have Regina in her mouth all over again.

“Can I just-? God, now I know why guys- I want you in my mouth so bad,” she groaned disjointedly, nudging the queen onto her back and starting to crawl down her body again.

“I’ve created a monster,” Regina chuckled, then gasped as Emma exhaled hotly against her pussy.

“I feel like a kid in a candy store,” the blonde confessed.

Regina made a face. “As pleased as I am for you to compare my cunt to candy, aren’t there better things for you to be doing with your mouth than making such declarations, dear?” she teased.

“Absolutely,” Emma agreed enthusiastically.

But before she could start, Regina’s fingers caught her chin again, making her meet her eyes. The queen’s expression was sincere rather than playful now. “I love you, Emma.”

Emma smiled. “I love you, too.” She just looked at Regina for long moments and felt a sense of contentment wash over her. The savior knew this didn’t mean everything would always be easy. Her freak out earlier had proven that. There’d be struggle above and beyond the work of any other relationship. But she knew, _knew_ , knew in her bones that they had something worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for going on this long, strange trip with me, from the moment when Swapped made me start thinking about internalized homophobia through Emma’s descent into trauma to the slow climb back out. I can only hope that I did this complex and important story justice.
> 
> Much love to michebellaxo, who tolerated me showing up in her inbox every couple of days for 3 weeks and kept me on the right track with how someone as traumatized as Emma would go about healing. Really, honestly, I couldn't have done it without you, babe. She also convinced me not to break #13 into multiple chapters even though it’s long enough to be 3, so y’all should thank her for that, too. 
> 
> I realized I was doing the same “Surprise! Experienced person isn’t the first to give but the first to receive” reversal as A Dark Ocean and decided to make the echo explicit with dialogue. It’s my favorite fanfic possibly ever, ok; it is just part of my brain now.
> 
> Note that I’m not condoning Emma’s “it’s not about gender/sexual orientation, just 2 people who love each other” logic, but I do think it’s accurate to what she’d need to believe.


End file.
